


Pocket Change

by gothbile (orphan_account)



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Brotherly Love, Drug Use, Gen, Hannibal is 21, Murdoc is 14, Pre-Gorillaz, This will probably get very angsty, domestic abuse, sibling admiration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gothbile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While stuck in the disease infested slum that was Stoke-On-Trent, Murdoc didn't have much. But at least he had his big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket Change

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted one of my fanfictions before but I'm somewhat more confident in this one than I have in all my others so. Enjoy! Hopefully I can get my motivation to continue this. I haven't really a clue on where the direct plot is going but I'm sure I'll figure something out.
> 
> Yes the title is a pun about their last name

“Murdoc... Murdoc, come here.” A gruff sounding voice called out above the whimpers of a broken, yellowy-skinned boy. “I said come here.”

Murdoc glanced up at his older brother for a few seconds before finally obeying, pulling himself from his mattress to go and sit next to him. “Stop crying.” Hannibal simply said, untying the bandana from around his thigh to wipe a little roughly at his younger brother's face. Wipe away those tears and wipe away the drying blood from his mouth. “There's no use in crying. Doesn't do a lick of good, you know. So you better stop right now.”

It's not like he wasn't trying.

Sebastian had gotten drunk again; Roughed him up something awful when he couldn't preform at his peak due to a small cold. He didn't make enough money to support his dad's drinking habit for the night and he'd gotten beat for it. Hannibal hadn't helped him. He did sometimes, but not this time. He just turned a blind eye and went into their shared bedroom.

“You're alright. You're alive and nothing is broken, so you're alright. Stop crying.” The older Niccals boy continued. He tipped Murdoc's head up with three fingers, inspecting the damage until he considered him clean enough. He just discarded the bandana off into the pile of dirty clothes on the floor near his own mattress.

Murdoc had managed to suppress his emotions. There were a few final hiccups before it was over. “My mouth hurts..” He mumbled under his breath, delicately touching at his bottom lip. It felt swollen but soon, Hannibal was forcing his arm back down to his side. “Yeah, he knocked ya good. Don't touch it, your hands are dirty.” His hands were sort of dirty. His nails were a grimy brown from dirt being stuck underneath, the creases and cracks of his skin a greyish colour. “How come he never hits you?”

“... Cause I'm bigger than him now.” Hannibal shrugged, clambering off of his bed, stripping his shirt off in the process. While he wasn't huge, he wasn't small either. He was toned out with a decent amount of muscle stacked up. “Pap use to smack me around all the time. You were probably too young to remember it though.”

Murdoc watched his brother, bringing his feet up against the edge of the mattress so he could hug at his knees. That was weird to think about; Hannibal was some unbeatable hero in his eyes. Like in the movies where it's the main character against twenty. You can tell there's going to be a struggle but ultimately, you're not scared for them, because there's no way they can lose.

Hannibal threw on a tank top, then his spiked leather jacket. He was quiet proud of this one! Real leather. He saved up for a while for it. Kept it in tip top shape while the rest of his clothes got washed maybe every few weeks. A little dirt and sweat never hurt anyone. He felt it gave him a bit of character. The older Niccals boy studied his scruffy face in a broken mirror that hung on the wall. Touching over the wiry hairs that outline his jaw and under his lips. He certainly had a grungy punk look about him that he took pride in.

“Are you going somewhere?” Murdoc asked, an eyebrow raising. Hannibal went out quite a lot; Usually with that gang of punks that he called friends. They'd start all kinds of trouble around Stoke and sometimes even got kicked out before doing anything- The owners knew they were just there to cause a scene.

“There's a house party down at Oliver's place. Gonna be loads of birds there. And booze-” Hannibal gave a throaty laugh. “I wasn't gonna go at first but if dad's in one of his moods, might as well. I don't want to deal with him none.” He glanced back at Murdoc. He could see it on his face that he didn't want to be there neither. Alone, at least. “What? You think you can hang with me and my crew?”

It was like Hannibal read his mind. Murdoc nodded vigorously, getting up to his feet. “Yeah! Course I can! I'm not scared of them.”

“Well, you should be.” A small wink.

Murdoc huffed through his mangled nose, crooked and yellow teeth biting against his bottom lip for a moment. “Come on! Let me go with you, you promised you'd take me one day.”

Did he? What possessed Hannibal to make such a stupid promise? He was probably drunk out of his wits. “Ehhh.” He sneered, shoulders jerking up in a quick shrug. “I don't know. You're just a kid, mate. Barely out of your pull-ups.”

“I'm fourteen!”

“A kid!” Hannibal snapped, turning to shoot Murdoc a hard look. He knew better than to raise his voice at him. Though seeing his brother shrink under a mere gaze did bring a smile to his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the dingy walls of their shared bedroom. “... Fine. You can come with.”

Murdoc's face lit up.

“But! You gotta... Clean this entire bedroom. And I mean you're gettin' down on your hands and knees and scrubbing the floorboards. And you have to spit-shine all my boots. Deal?”

His excitement quickly turned into him cringing at the regulations. He guessed it was better than staying here with Sebastian though. So Murdoc nodded again, “Alright, deal.”

“Grrrreat!” Hannibal drew out his word. “First things first, strip down. No brother of mine is being seen dressed like that.” He gestured a hand out towards Murdoc's clothes; An old school uniform shirt and ill fitting jeans. Instead, he went for his side of the closet again. Grabbing some garbage-punk band t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

Murdoc looked down at himself; He probably would be quite a sight going to a party like this. He couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement again with getting to wear his brother's wardrobe. He always thought Hannibal was so cool- He'd spike his hair up like Sid Vicious and apply eyeliner messily along his bottom lids. He looked like someone straight out of a famous punk band. He quickly removed his shirt and trousers, shoving them off somewhere unimportant. He barely turned back a second before something new was forced into his hands.

After all was said and done, Murdoc suddenly had a new found confidence in himself. Looking just as cool as his brother! Faded jeans torn in all the right places. Spiked cuffs around his thin wrists and steal toed boots on his feet. Sure, everything was slightly too big for his body, but that didn't matter right now. He saw something in himself right now that he'd never seen before.


End file.
